Names
by Kadrian
Summary: The small pieces are what make life a big fat metaphor wrapped in adventurous stories, as Snake comes to realize. It makes no sense. [For SpyFest 2019 Week 1]


Written for SpyFest 2k19 Week 1: "A SAS soldier meets the animal he was named after"

So this didn't exactly go the way I wanted it (which was short and on-point) but you'll have to bear with me.

Note: Completely un-betaed.

* * *

Snake hadn't chosen his code name. He'd been assigned it. Growing up, Grandma used to tell him that given names were powerful things. You're not given a name for no reason, she'd said. You're given the name because somebody found a piece of you inside it. When he had been born, he'd been given the name Scott because that was his birthplace. But Grandma always called him by his middle name, Halwende, which she said was not given to him simply because it'd been his grandfather's name.

"You don't look like a snake to me," Eagle once told him. "Snakes are pretty offensive. You don't have that mean streak in you. Unlike Wolf. Wolf's just aggressive all the time."

Before Snake became a soldier, he'd never had any names with connection to snakes. The thing with snakes was that he didn't love them nor did he hate them. He had never found a piece of himself in snakes and he didn't think he would—which meant Grandma had lied to him. Up in the mountain, the small house they'd lived in was a little further from the rest of the villagers. The villagers all said she was crazy, that she thought she could see spirits, that she could see into people's soul. Sometimes she would mumble to herself; some times she would pull Snake close when they walked down the road and muttered, "That's a piece-stealer, Halwende. Best stay away." Snake lived with her in the countryside for most of his childhood until his mother brought him into the city. His father had drunk himself to an early grave and his mother had been trying to stabilize her life before coming back to pick him up.

Eagle got him a pet snake on their one-year K-Unit anniversary. Snake was frustrated because Eagle didn't seem to understand that Snake didn't have time for pets. With their tight on-call schedule, Snake barely had time to take care of himself, much less a pet. And he had no idea how to take care of a pet snake. Eagle found it funny. Eagle always found everything funny.

"When Wolf said to go high," said Snake carefully, "he certainly did not mean to get yourself blown up."

Eagle grinned, still a little off due to the medications. "Yeah, wasn't planning on it. I was just walking one second and then boom."

"You should be more careful," Snake chided. "Always check your surrounding. You're lucky that the blast wasn't as bad. How's the leg?"

"I'm fine, _mother_." Eagle huffed mockingly and Wolf snorted in what Snake thought was agreement.

"And the head? You took a hard hit. The doctor said the concussion shouldn't be too bad but if—"

"I'm fine, Snake. Seriously, I'm fine. You don't have to start."

"—if your head hurts or anything, you should let them know. Don't become too dependent on painkillers and take it easy—"

"I heard the doctor."

"Good, then you might actually get out of the hospital in a week."

Snake named his pet snake Hawk, partially after Eagle. He was tempted to simply let Hawk into the wilderness but Snake didn't know if that was a good deed or not. What if some predators were to pick it up? Then Snake might've had just as well murdered a snake. The medic sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in fatigue. It was too early in the morning. Upon returning home after submitting the latest injury report, Snake saw that Hawk didn't seem to have moved at all. It hadn't touched anything that Snake had set out for him.

"Eagle," said Snake as the sharpshooter finally picked up his phone. "I need you to pick up Hawk right now."

"...Wa…Why?" Eagle grumbled into the pillow he'd face-planted in.

"It hasn't moved."

"...The bloody hell, man. It's…not even _one _in the morning. Let it sleep…Let _me _sleep." Eagle didn't hang up but he might as well had because the sound of snoring filled the air seconds later.

Grandma had said that everyone had a connection with their namesake. Snake was partially named after his grandfather and Grandma admitted that sometimes Snake reminded him exactly of his grandfather. Grandfather was good at chess and he always worried his bottom lips when he was reeling in a fish. Snake was exactly the same. It scared her sometimes because the similarity was uncanny. "I can see him. He's right there," she once said in a small whisper. Connection with the namesake. Snake wondered if she could see the spirit of a snake dwelling inside of him as well. He ran a hand through his hair; he was thinking too much into their code names. For all they knew, it could've come from a randomly generated list—but names had always bothered Grandma.

She'd said that, when a person was born, their spirit was separated into eleven pieces. They were given the first piece by the one who named them. To live a complete, fulfilled life, they must receive all eleven names and find the piece of themselves that was within the name. Snake didn't believe in folktales or superstitions or the likes of them but he found himself wondering about each name he was given nonetheless.

"...What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other words would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, if—"

"Jesus Cub, can you take your recitation somewhere else?" Eagle groaned.

"Oh Romeo, Romeo." Cub's voice rose in volume. "_Wherefore art thou Romeo?_"

Snake hid a grin as Eagle leaped up from the couch and began hitting Cub over the head with a pillow. Fox tossed Cub a pillow in aid but the young spy instead picked up the book on the coffee table and began reading out loud again as if it was a mantra. Eagle chased him out of the dining room.

Perhaps Shakespeare was right when he said a name was all just a name. But it was more poetic to have names mean something. There was a reason why witches whispered the full names of their victim as they stir the cauldron and why people used their full name when they pledge themselves to something binding. Names were powerful.

"My name?" replied Fox when Snake asked him the origin behind his name. "Not sure. They probably saw the Big Ben tower one day and thought Ben was a nice enough name. Really, some people don't put many thoughts into naming things." The ex-spy smacked his hand against the side of the coffee machine. "Like this thing. Why do they call it the coffee machine if it's not even making coffee?"

The villagers called Grandma crazy. Did that mean that name was also one of her pieces? She'd said not yet and Snake hadn't understood. He still didn't. Before she'd died, she told him she was at peace because she was lucky in having collected all eleven names because some people went their entire life missing pieces. "Some people," she'd said, "steal others' names, steal pieces of others for themselves. They're bad people."

"How do you steal pieces?" Snake had asked.

"When you take a life, when you betray somebody," Grandma had replied, "lots of things, Halwende, lots of things. Don't go down that path."

Snake wondered if becoming a soldier was already an act of betrayal. He'd lost count of the number of people he'd killed and that was a scary thought. Because of him, some people had died unfulfilled, incomplete. If Grandma could see him now, she'd be absolutely livid. "A monster is always a monster. There're no good monsters or bad monsters. There're only monsters," she would say. "Just like there're no good dead men or bad dead men. They're all dead and all buried beneath the same ground we walk over."

"Guilty?" Wolf looked slightly surprised at the question. "Of course I have." His tone hardened. "You know better than we do that the guilt of killing never goes away. Why are you bringing that up now? Is it psych eval again? I'm not doing that shit. Take Cub. The kid probably needs some of that."

The thing was, people wouldn't declare themselves monsters. It was a name given to them. By _others_, not by themselves. To Snake, Wolf wasn't a monster but, somewhere out there, on a battlefield where they'd shed blood on, somebody was calling Wolf a monster. Was that one of Wolf's pieces? There were so many things Snake still wanted to ask Grandma but she had already passed. Dead people won't respond to names because they had no need for them anymore.

Hawk was warming up to him. Or as 'warmed up' as a cold-blooded reptile could. It was responding to its name every now and then. Seeing that Cub was home more often than Snake and the rest of K-Unit was, Snake tasked him to take care of Hawk while he was gone. Cub seemed to be a little intimidated so Snake told him that "Hawk is a nice."

"Why 'Hawk'?" asked Cub one time. "He doesn't look like a Hawk to me. He looks more like a Sluther."

"Sluther?" Snake arched an eyebrow. "Because he's a snake?"

"Mhm."

"I named him Hawk after Eagle."

"Eagle? _Oh_, Eagle and Hawk. Because Eagle got it for you?"

"Yeah."

"Still, Hawk doesn't suit this little guy."

Snake had to disagree because Hawk looked exactly like a Hawk to him. He'd gotten used to the name so much that the thought of calling Hawk Sluther was disturbing. He glanced at Cub who was making faces at the snake.

One day, Snake thought, they should stop calling Cub 'Cub' because the kid was almost past the legal age now. He wasn't a cub anymore—but Cub was just always Cub. He was the littlest and the youngest among them—the name was well-deserved, even though it'd started out as nothing more than a mock from Wolf back in training camp. He thought of using that logic to explain to Cub why Hawk was a befitting name. But the young spy was busy with making Hawk respond to the name Sluther.

Now the snake had found two pieces of itself already, Snake thought absently. Hawk just needed nine more, as per Grandma. But then, it wasn't as if Hawk cared.

Fox went on a mission for MI6 as a favor for Mrs. Jones a couple of weeks later. When he'd come back, the hospital staff almost put him in a psychiatric ward because he'd curled up into himself and kept muttering the same thing, "My name's James Havershim", over and over again. He'd been captured and interrogated but they couldn't pry anything out of him. The man had stuck to and refused to let go of the alias he went under. Snake was afraid that the ex-spy would really lose who he was and become James Havershim. Wolf threatened to shoot the nurses and doctors in the kneecap if they dare to even speak of psych wards in front of him. Fox recovered three weeks later after much coaxing and James Havershim was finally tossed away.

(Snake wondered if all of Fox's alias were pieces of him as well. But that would be more than eleven names. He wondered if Grandma was wrong.)

"Hey," said Eagle. The man was in the bunk beneath him, toeing Snake's mattress impolitely. "Snake. You awake?"

"...What?"

"You okay, man?"

"...Is your wound hurting you?"

"No, it's just a cut. You just sound a little off lately. Everything fine?"

"It's nothing."

Eagle was silent for a moment. The soft breathing permeated the silence. In the bunks on the other end, Wolf and Fox were asleep. "Wolfman and Fox said you've been asking some weird questions."

"Go back to sleep, Eagle," Snake muttered.

"...Is it related to your grandma? It's almost the tenth anniversary, right?"

Snake shifted in his bunk, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. "Yes, but it's nothing for you to worry over, Eagle. Go to sleep. Your wound won't heal well if you're sleep-deprived."

"Well, you weren't sleeping either."

"You woke me up."

"You were awake before."

"That's because—"

"Will you two shut up and go to sleep?" Wolf growled.

"Shut up, Wolf," mumbled Fox.

Grandma hadn't been particularly close with the villagers which meant it would just be Snake talking to her framed picture this time as well. "Such a shame," the villagers would say to him when it was that time of the year again. "She lost her mind after her husband died, sprouting all sorts of crazy things. She scared children with all her rambling about pieces and piece-stealers. It's not that we don't respect her at all, Scott. She's just bad luck." His grandfather had drowned. The day after he'd had died, grandma had torn up the whole lavender field, muttering that his grandfather had died without all eleven pieces. Grandfather promised her that he would find all eleven pieces in his lifetime and he did just that. "But somebody stole one of his pieces," she'd said. "Somebody betrayed him, Halwende. His death, it wasn't an accident."

"Eleven names?" repeated Eagle. "I don't know, Snake. I must've gotten a dozen or so nicknames back in high school. That place was a bully yard: you can't go anywhere without being branded with a bunch of names. Not like I ever take them to heart anyway. They were probably jealous."

Snake hummed, absently cleaning his gun.

"Your grandma sounds interesting."

The last of the parts were wiped and cleaned. Putting down the cloth, Snake reassembled the metal pieces. "You think so?" He eyed Eagle briefly.

"You should take me to her anniversary for a change. I've nothing to do over the weekend anyway."

Snake set down his assembled gun. "Maybe not."

Shrugging, Eagle said, "Your loss. I'm good company." He glanced at Snake. "Well, let's say your grandma's correct. Eleven names. Maybe she was talking about names that you'd respond to, you know? People can call you anything but it's not like you're gonna respond to all of them." Eagle snorted. "Like Cub and Hawk. Did you know Cub's trying to get Hawk to respond to Sluther? Driving me crazy. Probably driving the snake crazy as well."

"I know."

"'I know?' That's all you're gonna say?" Eagle rolled his eyes childishly. "C'mon, lighten up a little, Snake. You're always so curt with your words. Be a snake. Attack me."

Snake frowned. "Why must I represent my code name? I was given it. I didn't choose it."

"Wow," Eagle jerked back dramatically. "Why are you angry? Man, I mean no harm. Just, you know, trying to lighten the mood," muttered Eagle as if Snake had done something horrible. "You've been weird lately. Moody. Should I start calling you Moody now?"

Snake looked away, sighing. "Sorry." Was that another piece? Another name?

Grandma had told him once he grew up, he would understand what she meant. "You must find yourself in your name. If you find yourself, you find peace. Promise me, Halwende, that this time you won't let anybody take any of your names away. You grab tight, you hear me? All eleven of them, you must take to your grave." Then she'd gone off muttering again that his grandfather's death hadn't been an accident. Snake had then understood better why the villagers said she was scaring the children.

Snake wasn't actively searching for names. He didn't want to follow Grandma's footsteps because that had been then and this was now. She'd driven herself crazy with all the talks of pieces and piece-stealers and grandfather's murder. However, every now and then, Snake couldn't help but falter at the names he was called.

"You know what's ironic, Snake?" Eagle said as he trudged along the forest, supporting half of Snake's weight. A pained grunt escaped the medic. "Hey, Snake? Ask me what's ironic."

"...What's…ironic?" Snake decided to humor the sharpshooter in order to distract himself. To put it briefly, he had been shot in the gut. Every movement he made sent his brain in a frenzy and he felt as if he'd been shot everywhere. Wolf was up front and Fox had taken up the rear. Or maybe it was the other way around. It was hard to keep track with all the green.

"Why, I'm glad you asked, buddy," said Eagle. "What's ironic is that you're medic and you got shot. Which is not good because we really would like a medic now."

Snake didn't reply. His right hand gripped the shoulder strap of Eagle's vest tightly. The knuckles had turned white and Snake could only hope that he wasn't hurting Eagle. Snake glanced down, his bloodied left hand pressing tightly to his abdomen. They were almost there.

"How you doing, Snake?" Fox appeared. "How's he doing?"

Eagle re-positioned slightly the arm that was draped across his shoulders and replied, "Doesn't sound good. He's not replying to my jokes."

"Well, they aren't good, to begin with." Fox broke it to Eagle. "Your bad humor's making him suffer. Am I right, Snake?"

Snake huffed in reply. Wolf came back from the front, looked him over, and gave them hope by reminding them that their vehicle was just up front. A hundred meters. Two hundred, at most. Eagle suggested that they take a quick break. "A very quick break. Snake, drink some water. Let's sit down. Let's sit. Here's a good tree. Beautiful tree trunk. You can lean against it…Slowly…Down we go. Hey, keep your eyes open. Eyes on my beautiful face."

Snake wondered if this was how Eagle felt when Snake kept nagging at him to take care of his wound. He vowed to change his way after this because focusing on Eagle's rambling was painful. The sharpshooter set him down, leaned him against the tree, and held a bottle of water to his lips. Snake drank slowly.

Eagle left his side to step a few meters aside with Wolf and Fox. The three of them were discussing something. Snake tried to hear but he couldn't with the pounding of his head. He set down the water bottle. Gradually, his head began to quiet down. Then he heard it. In the quiet forest, they all heard it. A twig snapped. Leaves rustled. It was near them. In front of the group.

Wolf held up a hand. The three standing members turned slowly, guns out. Eagle was beginning to move slowly back to Snake whose right hand was fumbling at the holster on his vest for a gun. Eagle laid a gloved hand on Snake's hand and shook his head. Too loud.

The rustling came again. Ten o'clock. Or nine. In between. Snake wasn't sure. Then slowly, a head appeared next to a pile of leaves. The head of a cobra. The rest of its body blended in well with the surrounding.

"...That's one _giant _fucking cobra," muttered Wolf. "Nobody moves."

"Should I shoot it?" Eagle asked. "I can take it out if—"

"No," said Snake. They all turned to spare him a quick glance. "Don't shoot it."

"Hey man, your code name might be Snake but that doesn't mean you have to protect snakes."

"It won't bite. And you shouldn't…shoot it."

"That's a fucking cobra."

"If you don't…" Snake shut his eyes as a wave of nausea rushed in and slammed against him. He exhaled through his nose. "If you don't agitate it, it'll go away. It's…scared of us."

Wolf hesitated. "You sure?"

Snake nodded. He turned to watch the cobra. He thought their eyes met. It was unnerving. Frightening, almost. He held his gaze, praying that the snake would know they meant no harm. If there were any connections between them as Grandma had said, Snake hoped the cobra would understand their peaceful intentions.

Snake must've blacked out for a few brief seconds. When he came to, Eagle was pressing a finger to his neck, counting the heartbeats. The sharpshooter exhaled in relief as Snake met his eyes. "He's awake."

The cobra was still there. "It's not going away," Wolf said quietly. "We can't wait. Let's shoot it."

"Wolf!" Snake's voice rose. Then he grimaced, biting back the pain. Wolf looked startled by his outburst, jerking his head back to watch the cobra. Fortunately, it hadn't respond much to the increase in volume. "Wolf. It'll go away. It has no reason…no reason to attack us."

"You're not gonna make it if we keep waiting."

"It'll go away," insisted Snake. "I know…I know, alright? Read a bunch of books 'bout snakes when I got Hawk."

"Fine," said Wolf abruptly. "Eagle, get Snake up. Let's move back quietly. Keep it slow."

"Got it."

It was a miracle that Snake hadn't blacked out again as Eagle helped him up. The four of them backed away, slowly. The cobra didn't move from its position, watching them in a way that reminded Snake of Hawk. It didn't make a sound. Wolf took up the rear and Fox went on ahead. When they were a good distance away, Snake could still see the cobra and its jet black eyes. And even when they've reached the car, Snake thought he could still feel the day-less eyes watching them from afar. Was this the 'connection' Grandma spoke of? It felt surreal. It might be the blood-loss talking.

The first thing he did after he was discharged from the hospital was to sit outside Hawk's tank. The snake didn't come to him as a dog would to its owner but Snake had never expected that of Hawk. He fed it and sat back again, tired. Cub had come by yesterday but Snake told him to not drop by today. He would like some peace to himself.

Then, in the dimly lit room where silence was broken only by the honks of the cars, Snake said out loud, "Hawk."

The snake's head turned slightly. Then it remained in the position, frozen, for a brief while. Snake watched it, feeling a little happy despite the simplicity of what had happened.

On Saturday, Snake headed back to the village where grandma had lived and died for her anniversary. He went to their house and tidied up some of the things. On the way, he ran into a few villagers that he knew and also a lot more that he didn't. The village chief, still the same one for the past three decades, came by. The man was old and his hair was turning white by the handfuls. It used to be grey for as long as Snake could remember. Maybe there once was a time when it was dark, but Snake had never seen it personally.

"Scott," the man said in greeting as he entered the house. Grandma's picture hung on the wall and a few candles were lit. Beside them were a plate of her favorite biscuits and a bundle of lavenders.

"Chief," Snake replied. "What brings you here?"

"I promised you last year that this year I'd come."

"Oh," Snake replied apologetically, "I don't recall."

"That's alright, my child, that's alright." The man patted his knee with a wrinkled hand. "I want to give you something. Your grandma left it, actually. I just recently found it." From his large baggy pocket, the chief pulled out an old tattered leather-bound notebook. "You're better suited to have it."

Snake took it. "What is this?"

"I do not know but she wrote in it often. Maybe it'll tell you what really drove her crazy." The chief then stood and left.

It was a book of words. Or more precisely, names, as Snake came to realize when he flipped through the pages. The first line began with the name Grandma was given. It was circled. Beside the name was a whole row of squished-in vertical lines. Tally marks. The next line was 'child'. Then came 'girl'. They weren't circled and had significantly fewer lines than the first. The list continued. Snake flipped through it again. Then again and set to count the circled names. As he'd expected, there were eleven of them. Each of them was followed by a whole line filled with tally marks. Was it to count the number of times the name had been uttered? It probably was.

Snake went back to the first page, finger stopping at the circled names: her given name, first in the series because a given name was a piece that many were born with; a nickname, presumably given to her by her childhood friends; 'Miss', a simple word that summarized how she'd been called before marriage; 'honey', an endearment from her husband; 'mom', something that only Snake's father would've called her—and the word had been circled with a shaky hand; beneath that was the word 'grandma' and Snake couldn't help but stop there. It felt as if he was invading her privacy. It wasn't just a book of names; it was her whole life, written one word, one line, at a time. He noted that a lot of the earlier names didn't have as much tally marks: she must've started writing when she was older.

He skipped to the last entry. The last circled name was the word 'crazy' and Snake felt a sense of loss when he read it. She'd told him "Not yet" when he'd asked if that word had been a piece of her. When did it change?

Snake set the notebook down and stood to stretch his legs.

Grandma had always told him to not let insults bring him down. "Don't try to find yourself in ugly words. If you look too hard, you just might find it. Best you look away and it'll disappear. You only have eleven pieces; don't waste them."

Yet she'd accepted the name 'crazy'. Did she look too hard and accidentally found the last piece of herself in it? The way she put it sounded as if he was supposed to give himself names instead of being _given _the names. It was as if he was supposed to choose instead of being told whom he ought to be—and when he thought of it out loud, it made sense. Yet it didn't.

Snake took out a pen from his pocket and skipped to a new page on the notebook. Scott, he wrote, and beneath that, Halwende. He circled the latter before closing the notebook. It was small so it fit almost perfectly inside his inner chest pocket.

Wolf took a shot to his vest and tumbled out of a moving car a few days later but it'd been overall a successful mission. Snake pulled up a chair beside Wolf's hospital bed and asked the man if he was feeling any pain or if his head was hurting. The concussion he received wasn't too bad but Snake wanted to make sure just in case. It didn't hurt to be—

"Oh for God sake, Snake, I'm fine. Didn't Eagle get shot or something? Go bother him."

Snake opened his mouth, about to retort, then he thought better and closed it. They probably didn't want to hear his lecture right now, even though it was for their own good. He didn't want to always be seen in a negative light in their eyes. That way, he wouldn't have to find the piece of himself in a mocking name. The realization left a sour taste in his mouth. He stood up and placed the chair back where he found it.

Wolf must've been waiting for the lecture because he looked surprised when Snake got up to leave. "Where you going?"

"Draft the mission report."

"...That's my job."

"You have a concussion so you should—" Snake stopped himself. "Alright, I'll leave it to you. I will go find Eagle. Check on him."

Wolf stopped him before he could open the door to the hallway. "Snake." The medic turned back. "What the hell is up with you lately? First with the questions, now this."

"This?" Snake arched an eyebrow. "Would you rather I tell you how important it is to rest because you have a concussion? You took a tumble out of a moving car. A _moving _car. And no, not just that. You also took a round to your vest. You should be thankful that Fox is a good driver. If we hadn't picked you up fast enough, you would've been riddled with bullets. No, I'd instead be downstairs in the morgue talking to a dead body. The best thing you can do right now is to stay right there in the bed and don't move. Do everything that the doctor and nurses tell you to do because they're not trying to kill you, they're trying to save—"

"For God's sake, Snake, I take it back. Go draft the report. Leave."

Snake left, a little more unsure of himself. They got frustrated when he lectured them and still got frustrated when he didn't. It was hard to please them, wasn't it? He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Snake was tired. What wouldn't he give to go home and sleep? Maybe even talk to Hawk for a little bit. Hawk was easy to please because Snake never really knew when it was happy and when it was not. Snake abandoned the thought and headed downstairs.

He met Eagle and Fox halfway down the stairs. They were carrying a cup of beverage each. Eagle grinned when he saw Snake. "Gave Wolfman a good lecture, I hope. That'd teach him to keep his head on during missions." Fox clapped him on the back.

Snake drafted the report. Then he revised and finished it. It'd be good for Wolf and the others to catch some sleep, especially after the havoc that was yesterday. It was late when he got back home after dropping off the report at the sergeant's desk—the man must've pitied him because he didn't ask Snake to stay for a verbal debriefing. Hawk's eyes watched him as he entered the kitchen and made himself scrambled eggs. The clanging of the spoon against the plate didn't do much to wake him up. Snake set his alarm for eight hours and went to sleep. He deserved it.

In a week, Snake had added only two more names to Grandma's notebook. Eagle called him Moody again, much to his chagrin. He added 'Snake' to the list but he didn't circle it. He was hesitant and even after consulting Grandma's circled names, he still didn't understand how she chose her pieces. Snake didn't see himself in snakes but 'Snake' was still undoubtedly _him_. It was like how Grandma circled 'honey'. It wasn't as if she saw herself in a jar of honey—he hoped—but it was instead something his grandfather called her. Did that mean Grandma found a piece of herself in that word or that she found it in her husband? Snake decided to leave the word as it was.

"What are you scribbling inside that old notebook?" asked Eagle. "You look like an old sentimental lady writing to her son who'd died a long time ago oversea but nobody told her because nobody knows she exists."

Snake eyed the sharpshooter. "…You have a vivid imagination."

"Thanks. So what you writing? Should I be concerned? Because I'm very concerned right now."

"Don't make this awkward."

"Too late." Eagle suddenly reached over and snatched the notebook out of his hands. "Let's see what you have here."

Snake tried to reach for it but Eagle extended his arm out of his reach. With the cafeteria table between them, Snake was effectively kept aside. "Eagle, hand it back."

"Nuh-uh. What do we have here—"

In retrospect, Snake wished he hadn't punched Eagle. But in the spur of the moment, he did. The notebook fell out of the man's hand and clattered onto the floor. And so did Eagle. The sharpshooter laid on the ground, stunned. Then he reached up to wipe a trace of blood off the corner of his mouth.

Having been tasked to watch over this year's Selection, they were currently in Brecon Beacon and the simple commotion had set off a chain of events. The soldiers nearest to Snake surged to grab him while some of the others helped up Eagle. One of them grabbed Snake by his collar and—

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eagle shouted. "Keep your hands off him." The sharpshooter leaped over the table and ripped away the soldier's grip on Snake's collar. "Soldier, keep your hand to yourself. Do I look like a damsel to you? Do I need your rescue?"

"No sir!"

"No sir that's right! And who is the man you just tried to punch? A goddamn instructor. Are you blind, soldier?"

"No sir! I apo—"

"You're _not _an Avenger so don't try to avenge me. And even if you are one, I don't need your help because there's nothing to avenge. Now you get to go run in the field for being a good Samaritan. A hundred laps. Report to Wolf when you're done."

"Yessir!"

"Get going!"

"Yessir!"

Snake had never seen Eagle as mad as this before. It must've been a transference of anger, Snake noted. The anger at Snake had passed onto the anger at the soldier for…for manhandling him. Snake bent down and picked up the notebook, tucking it back into his chest pocket.

He turned back to Eagle. "I'm sorry."

"Let's get out of here first. These newbies are pissing me off." Eagle grabbed him roughly by the arm and dragged him outside. If Snake were to take a guess, it was not because of the new recruits but rather because Eagle didn't want to be on the scene when the Sergeant arrived.

Outside, Snake apologized again. Eagle just sighed, wiping his mouth again with the back of his hand. "Yeah, I shouldn't have taken your old lady notebook. That's my fault."

"Apologizing?... You've grown up, Eagle," Snake couldn't help but said dryly.

"Funny." Eagle glared at him. "What's the deal with the notebook anyway? What's so secret? You don't usually shed blood over a notebook."

At that, Snake guiltily grimaced. The punch had split the sharpshooter's lips. It was minor, but it wasn't something Snake ever wanted to do to one of his teammates. "It's just something my grandmother left for me."

"...Can I see it?"

Snake sighed and took it out. He handed it gingerly to Eagle. Something akin to shame shimmered in the surface but Snake pressed it down. Eagle took it carefully and flipped through the pages. "…Child…Miss…Lady…Old Hag…What are these?"

"My grandmother kept a list of names," Snake explained. "Every time someone addressed her, she wrote it down and kept count of the occurrence. It's how she finds her eleven pieces. Eleven names."

Eagle was quiet for a moment, flipping through the pages. As Eagle neared the start of Snake's page, the medic had the sudden impulse to rip it out of the sharpshooter's hand and hide the notebook away again. Snake clenched his hands into fists and clasped them behind his back.

Eagle landed on his page. The sharpshooter glanced up at him, a complicated emotion clouded over his face. "…You wrote this?" he asked carefully.

Snake nodded, not liking the tone but he kept his face passive. The sharpshooter snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him. "Snake, you should stop writing in that." He sounded serious.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't try to follow what your grandmother did."

Snake arched an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, it was you who said she sounded like an interesting person. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well, I don't want you to turn into an old lady." Eagle shrugged but Snake knew it wasn't what the sharpshooter wanted to say. "C'mon, let's go find Wolf. We can go get a drink."

"I don't drink."

"Right, I forgot. Well, then we can go play some cards. Maybe go down to the shooting range and shoot some targets. Or we can go hiking with the recruits."

After that incident, Eagle's attitude toward Snake changed but he wouldn't confess to it even if Snake had asked. The sharpshooter became softer and seemed to have taken up a job in watching Snake like a hawk (and Snake already had Hawk so didn't need another one). It was disturbing. Snake wondered if Eagle was sick. The medic checked a few times but Eagle didn't seem to have a fever or anything and he wasn't complaining about headaches either.

The day before his mother's birthday, Snake sent a card. He would've preferred to send her an email but she wasn't all that good with technology. He got a letter back a few days later. She told him she was sorry for missing Grandma's anniversary. His mother was the one who found Grandma the morning after she died. Grandma had come to visit them for the week back then. On the last day, she just hadn't woken up again. A cremation was ordered instead of a coffin burial and they spread the ashes in her village. Snake didn't blame his mother for not attending the anniversary. After all, she was the person who found her dead. She'd also found her husband dead. Even long after his father's death, his mother still hadn't gotten over it despite all her pretenses. She didn't take deaths well so Snake had always tried to come back home well and alive from the missions. Because of the confidentiality of the assignments, it was even easier to not let her know he was on a mission at all.

As if punishing his hiding of information from his mother, Snake got a knife to his stomach a few weeks later. They were aiding the police in a terrorist hostage situation. They were told that there was an estimate of about 7 hostiles. Ex-military. Trained. Out for revenge. It was late at night and they had taken off their night goggles as they were about to enter the brightly lit building. If they had had the goggles on, they would've seen the assailant darting out of the alleyway between the buildings. Eagle shot the man but not before Snake was taken down. He had expected a bullet but he'd received a knife instead.

"This is familiar," remarked Snake in a short gasp as Eagle, with the help of Wolf, dragged him over to lean against the wall. "Last time I was shot in the gut."

"You've never had a sense of humor. Don't try to develop one now," Eagle said with a roll of his eyes. "Alright, eyes on me. It's not too bad. I'm making this face only because I hate blood."

Wolf, who was unmasking the dead assailant beside them, snorted. Then he informed them, "The man's one of the hostage takers they showed us pictures of. He must've been out patrolling. They shouldn't have noticed us yet."

"He doesn't have a gun," commented Fox. "Think they put him out here because he's not of any help inside?"

"Maybe." Wolf turned. "We need to get moving. Snake, how do you feel?"

"Fine." Snake did a quick assessment. "I can manage." He was honest. The wound wasn't life-threatening. He could perfectly manage. Besides, they shouldn't go in with only three people. Three against six was not exactly a fight Snake can guarantee the outcome of. Besides the life of twenty civilians depended on this. If even one died because Snake wasn't in there, he would never forgive himself. He didn't need that on his conscience. Nor did he want to be called a monster.

Wolf grimaced. "No choice. If you can manage, we need you in there. The plan stays the same. Go in, go out. Shoot anyone with a gun but the hostage takers are the priority on that list. No civilians should die if this goes as planned."

It went mostly to plan. One civilian died on the floor Snake was assigned. He had been blinded for one brief second by the pain. That second cost the life of a woman. He shot the hostage taker. Both bodies crumpled to the ground. Amid the chaotic roars of gunfire, nobody knew until they took collateral damage and it was one of the worst moments of Snake's life when they announced there was only one dead and three wounded. The higher-ups had wanted zero casualties but they grimly settled for one. They didn't dwell much on it after concluding that she was shot by one of the hostage takers. Nineteen lives saved and all seven hostiles killed; they counted it a victory and the civilians thanked them as heroes.

Snake wrote 'hero' down with much sarcasm after he got patched up in the hospital and returned home. Next to the line, he made nineteen tally marks. Wolf called them out for a drink. Snake wanted to refuse because he did not drink but Eagle insisted, "We can play cards instead."

Like the higher-ups, Wolf considered it a victory. It wasn't that Snake didn't; it was that he felt he could've done better. He knew he was being hard on himself but it was hard to ease off. Snake ran a hand through his hair and then took a swig from the glass of water. It was cold. A ring of water had appeared on the table where the glass had sat a few seconds ago.

It was Eagle who spoke first after a brief talk about the weather. "One dead three wounded is a victory, considering all the odds."

Wolf grunted an agreement. "Could've been a lot worse." The man took a drink.

Fox nodded. "The hostiles were trained soldiers. It really could've been a lot worse."

"You did well. Tough guy," said Eagle, clapping Snake on the back. "We all tried our best and we should just take this triumphantly and move past it. Alright?"

"Didn't take you as a motivational speaker," Fox remarked wryly. "You drunk? It's not even your third beer."

"Haha, funny."

It felt as if Eagle was speaking to Snake and not the K-Unit as a whole. The sharpshooter was probably worried that Snake would blame himself for the loss. Snake eyed Eagle briefly, a little amused. As a medic, Snake should know better than any of them how dangerous it was to go down that self-blaming path. He was more self-aware because he needed to take care of himself before he could take care of others.

On a whim, Snake wrote down 'tough guy' on the notebook. Then he snorted, laughing at himself.

It was hard to forget the woman's face. Snake had nightmares. It really wasn't pleasant. In the dreams, they called him a murderer; a pretender; incompetent; a piece-stealer. Sitting by Hawk's habitat one night too many, Snake thought he should go see somebody about the nightmares. He didn't want to. Instead, he settled to write the names he heard down in the notebook and then cross them out with a bold black pen.

Eagle caught him writing in the notebook. The sharpshooter asked him politely for it and this time Snake refused. "Why not?" Eagle asked.

"It's personal."

"You showed it to me before."

"That was then."

Eagle sat down on the grass next to him. Wolf and Fox were in the lake swimming with the new recruits who still had about two months more of Selection to go through. "C'mon, Snake. Look at this beautiful sky. Beautiful weather. Bees humming. Trees singing. Birds swaying in the wind. Put down that old lady book. You're a soldier, you can survive without that book."

Snake snorted but put away the notebook nonetheless. "For my grandmother, it'd been her mission to find all eleven pieces. I'm merely following her footsteps."

"Following her footsteps? Then why haven't I heard you mention these things before? Have you always been a stickler to this name business?"

Snake thought about it. He hadn't. However, at some point, he had. Snake wasn't sure when but he was certain that it was almost fairly recent. Even though he had every now and then been caught up by names, he had never set out to try to find himself in them as Grandma had described. He used to think of her belief as nothing more than tales grandparents would tell their grandchildren. So when did he start believing? It's been a while.

Snake's mother asked him to help her move if Snake had time. Most of the things would be transported via a truck but she needed help getting them packed into boxes. Snake agreed. He dropped by a few days later on a weekend. She hadn't really started but there wasn't a lot of things anyway since she lived mostly by herself.

There was a lot of loose paper floating around the house. Pamphlets, advertisements, mails, all sorts of things, and they were hindering his progress. Snake set down the box and decided to collect the papers first. He came across a crumpled up paper ball that was tossed to the corner of the room. A decade of dust had settled over it and a spider had found its home only a few inches away. It was Grandma's death certificate.

Snake smoothed it out and in swift seconds realized that his mother had lied. The cause of death wasn't old age.

"Give me that!" The paper was torn out of his hands by his mother. "Give me that. Don't read it. It's nothing."

It was suicide. Overdose.

His voice was calm when he asked, "Grandma...committed—?"

"Don't," his mother warned. "Don't say that word." And Snake was reminded that his father had more or less done the same by drinking too much. "Leave it, Scott. Pretend you didn't see it, okay? Nobody needs to know."

Eagle had a girlfriend back in secondary school. In a few months, it would be the twelfth anniversary of her death. She'd thrown herself off a roof. Snake couldn't imagine what Eagle had gone through. Her death was the reason why Eagle was always so worked up when people belittled mental illness and depression. It wasn't anger—it was fear that originated from the memory. And Snake could see the same emotion on his mother's face right now.

"I'm sorry, son," she said quietly a little later.

Coming back to the barrack, Snake took out his notebook again with a small smile and wrote 'son' beneath the ugly crossed-out words. He barely had time to cap his pen before Eagle rushed up to him and grabbed the notebook out of his hand. It slammed onto the ground, skidding a few feet, and rested by the grass.

Snake started. "What—"

"I told you to stop writing in that, didn't I?" Eagle's mouth was set in a hard line. "I told you and you don't listen."

"...Are you okay, Eagle?"

"I'm perfectly fine. You're the one who's having problems here."

Snake bent to pick up the notebook but Eagle kicked it away with a boot. "Eagle, what are you doing?" The sharpshooter shoved him. Snake stumbled, confused and irritated by Eagle's display.

"Writing in that thing won't help," Eagle said with gritted teeth. "Talk to people, alright? Eleven pieces, my ass. It's all a big lie, can't you see, Snake? There aren't any eleven pieces."

"What's gotten into you?" Snake frowned. "I know it's only a story but it's—"

"It's not the story you think it is."

"...What do you mean?"

Eagle swiped the notebook off the ground and shook it in front of Snake's face. "When you read the names, did you feel enchanted? Did you feel captivated? Did you enjoy it? Did you feel happy when you read it? _No_, because it's not a fairy tale. It isn't some sort of tale you'd expect grandparents to pass down, Snake." The sharpshooter flipped to a page in the middle without looking. "Look at all these names. Name-calling. Bad words. People called her awful things, didn't they? And your grandmother recorded them."

"I don't understand."

"You don't—?" Eagle broke off and sighed, scratching his head. He calmed down a little. "What I'm trying to say, Snake, is that your grandmother was not some sort of story-teller. She suffered from depression."

Snake thought about her death certificate that he'd found only just that morning. "How did you know?"

"The girl I knew in secondary school did the same thing," Eagle said, voice a little softer. "She wrote down names that people called her. Fucked up. She didn't listen to me when I told her to stop doing it because it's not helping her. Her therapist told her to try to find the good names and stick to them but she wrote _every _name she heard down. Well, you can't find a good name if all you hear the whole day is just shitty labels, can you? She tried too hard to find herself in bad names."

Snake couldn't help but let a snort escape him. The sharpshooter looked at Snake warily as if the medic had insulted him. Snake gently pried the notebook out of Eagle's hands. "So you're all worked up because you think I suffer from clinical depression."

"Well…" Eagle crossed his arms, a little embarrassed. "Yes. Every other time I see you, you're writing in that thing and you appear rather down lately. It's not hard to connect the dots."

"Your worry is misplaced."

"Well then why the hell did you not sleep and call me at one in the morning to talk about Hawk? And you stopped lecturing us when we got big-headed and got hurt in the process. You asked a lot of strange questions too. You have the symptoms."

"I'm not your girlfriend." Snake paused. "That came out wrong."

At that, Eagle cracked a grin.

"I admit I was a little down," Snake continued. "A lot of things have been bothering me but it's nothing."

"...You sure?" Eagle didn't look convinced because he knew Snake was a good liar. "Lemme see your notebook then."

Snake handed it to him. Eagle immediately latched onto the crossed-out words. Snake had drawn only a thick line over it so the sharpshooter had no trouble reading the text beneath. Eagle glanced at him, hesitance and worry filling his eyes again.

The sharpshooter pointed at the strike-through text. "What are these? When did you hear these? When did this happen?"

"Dreams."

"Dreams? More like fucking nightmares," Eagle muttered. "Nobody living even called you that and you just decided to add them for the fun of it? If you've been having these dreams, you should've come talk to Wolf. He would have told you to get your head out of your arse."

"I'm the medic. I can take care of myself."

"Doesn't look like it." Eagle eyed him and handed him back the notebook. "I hope this is just a misunderstanding, Snake. If you catch you one more time writing in that, I'll burn it and have you inhale the ash."

"That's called murder."

"...Whatever." Eagle bent down and picked up the pen that Snake had dropped. The medic accepted it. "Let's go find Wolf. He's down at the shooting range."

After being approved of a short break from instructing, Snake went back to the village. The chief came back again, even though it wasn't any special day and Snake hadn't told anybody of his return. That meant the chief must've been dropping by regularly, Snake thought.

"Scott," the chief said, pausing at the doorway when he saw Snake.

"Chief."

"It's good to see you, my child," the man said. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to ask some questions," Snake replied. From his pocket, he took out the notebook. The chief's eyes spoke volume when they fell on the mottle brown cover. "About my grandma."

The chief nodded and asked him to take a walk with him. "What would you like to know?"

"I heard she suffered from depression. Was that true?"

"Who did you hear it from?"

Snake told him it was a guess and, as Eagle had put it, he'd connected the dots. The weather was soft and nice but it gave Snake the sense of calm before the storm. He followed the chief along the path, not knowing where the man wanted to take him to. However, they didn't seem to have a destination.

For a long moment, the chief was silent. Then when he spoke, he sounded miserable. "Yes, she did, even from a young age. I grew up with your grandmother, actually. She's always been quiet, withdrawn, and sometimes unstable. She went to the city when she was older but I stayed here. They said she went to see a doctor for the mind and she came back a little different."

The chief nodded his head at the notebook Snake held in his hand. "She came back with that. She always carried it with her. Everywhere. But whatever the mind doctor did, it didn't really help. It made her worse, especially after her son died. And then when her husband, your grandfather, died, we all saw that it tipped her over."

"People always called her crazy. She accepted it."

"That is the fault of the village. It might've very well been our carelessness that made her want to take her own life."

Snake faltered. "You knew?"

"Your mother confided in me when you two came to collect your grandma's belonging." The chief apologized. "She didn't want you to know. I don't blame her. Sometimes, you reminded us all too much of your grandma. Even when you were a child, we were afraid for you. We were afraid you will follow the footsteps of your father and your grandma. So I found your mother and I told her that she needed to get you out of the village."

Snake smiled, shaking his head at the apology that followed. "Maybe it's a good thing that you did."

"I see you've taken your own path. A soldier." The chief patted him on the arm gently. "But sometimes I do wish you'd stayed with your grandma. When you left, she was heartbroken. She had nobody. Maybe if the village had been better, she would've still been alive."

Snake thought of the way the villagers would say "Such a shame" to him on her anniversary. Were they ashamed of themselves? Was that why they refused to attend? But they didn't know she'd taken her own life. Maybe, in their hearts, she was still nothing more than the crazy old lady that lived in a small house in the mountain.

"Before she died, she said she found all her pieces. She died happy."

"Nobody who takes their own life died happy, my child." The chief said. "They left the world because they're not happy with who they are or how they are." At the crossroad, the chief stopped. "And you?"

"Me?"

"Are you happy, my child, with who you are and how you are?"

"Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't."

When the chief chuckled, his whole body shook. "I suppose a 'yes' will be asking for too much."

"What about you, Chief?"

"I'm happy. I have regrets, we all do, but I'm happy," the chief said. "As your grandma had put it, I'd found all my pieces. If I were to die tomorrow, I'd die a happy, fulfilled man."

"You believe in her story about the pieces?" Snake thought about how Eagle had been angered when the medic brought it up. The sharpshooter had called it a story for the depressed. Something to grab onto when they were on the bottom of the well.

The chief looked at him. "It's not a bad story. If it made her happy, it's a good story."

Snake went back to the barrack and found Eagle, Wolf, and Fox waiting at the foot of the mountain. The batch of recruits had just disappeared into the trail. Eagle saw him first and waved him over.

"How did it go?" asked the man.

"Eventful."

"I'm sure," Wolf said. "Let's go. We need to get to the half-way point. Don't know what more trouble those recruits can run into."

"Don't forget you were one of them before."

Turned out, one of the recruits had slipped and was dangling unresponsive over the edge of the cliff. He was suspended only by the climbing rope and his teammates were unable to pull him up because his right foot was stuck.

Wolf was a little irritated but nonetheless strapped in and launched himself off the side. The unconscious recruit woke up just as Wolf was trying to free him. Snake winced as he began flailing. Wolf told the man to "Stop fucking moving". The hostility only agitated him. The team leader got a foot to the face for his trouble. Then the recruit stopped moving, probably because of Wolf's infamous growl that they all heard from above.

"That little shit," muttered Wolf as Snake cleaned the cut on his forehead. "He'll be out before the end of today."

"And you should be a little nicer," Snake replied, slapping on the bandage. "Don't yell in their face when they're dangling off the cliff. If he'd kicked a little harder, you might actually get knocked out and get a concussion. And then what? You will be dangling like idiots. Eagle will probably take pictures and then you will suffer from embarrassment."

"Oh shut up, Snake," Wolf glared at him. "Are you done?"

"It's bleeding like a fountain. Just sit still."

"...It is?"

"No, but sit still." Snake smoothed it down. "You should consider the consequences of your actions, Wolf. The planets don't spin around your big head and it's not just because it's not bright enough."

Eagle roared in laughter beside him. "That's Snake for you, Wolf."

At that, Snake couldn't help but smiled. Snake, huh.

He seemed to have found the piece of himself.

(When Snake returned home, he stopped by Hawk's tank. He called out the snake's name and the snake turned its head.)


End file.
